


Blocking

by Cheloya



Category: Pet Shop of Horrors
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-27 07:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10804257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheloya/pseuds/Cheloya
Summary: Old, imported. It's impossible to study in Dee's apartment.





	Blocking

It had been annoying him for an hour or more before he said anything about it; if he'd said something sooner, maybe he wouldn't have yelled it like he did. As it was it came out kind of angry, kind of hateful, and the reaction it provoked was simply _wounded_ ; an expression that looked like it'd been stolen from all the kicked puppies of the world, and utter silence.

He backpedalled as soon as he saw it. "Ah, shit, I didn't mean--"

And then he heard himself, and hated it, so, "I mean, I _did_ , but--"

Downcast eyes, a pout he _knew_ was faking it, but that made the bottom of his stomach drop out anyway, and, "Aw, shit, Dee, you know I..."

"Cannot stand the noise here," Dee said softly. "Yes. Of course. Let us... sit outside, then. Away from the pets." He didn't look exactly _wilted_ , but he didn't look happy, either-- looked, in fact, as though he'd just had something he'd really, really wanted taken away. He gathered his books, an ancient abacus that he seemed to prefer instead of a calculator, stood to open the door. The sounds of traffic flooded in, soothing and almost familiar. Somewhere down there, someone'd been cut off, or cut someone off, and there was honking and blaring of horns filtering in over the regular rush of the traffic.

Vesca followed him out, sat down with his back to the apartment. Dee's purple eyes watched him reproachfully for a moment before they returned to the books, and the peaceful clack-clacking of his abacus resumed, though now at a slightly slower pace.

Vesca flipped through his notes, pencil between his teeth, brow furrowed slightly. If he concentrated on the traffic, he could almost block out the whispers that came from behind him; could almost block out the low murmur of the pets' conversation.


End file.
